Tag Archives: oliver twist

The moment you’ve been eagerly awaiting… drumroll please… five more of my desert island books. Ok, so maybe you haven’t been eagerly awaiting this moment. Maybe you just stumbled on this blog by accident looking for dessert recipes. Ah well, I’m posting them anyway…

A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

The first time I read this book, aged about fourteen, I stayed up the entire night (and I’m not exaggerating) to finish it. It’s long, like all of Dickens’ tomes, and takes a fair bit of commitment before you start it, but I’ve still managed to read it a couple more times since. And if I’m marooned, then at least with books this long I’ll never get bored. Most people will be able to quote the iconic opening line (I say line, some might call it a novella). Most people will be able to quote the closing line too:
‘It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.’
Unless you’re like me, because I’m usually too distraught to be able to focus on the closing line! Either way, you can’t deny that the man knows how to tell a story.

Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens

I know, I know, another Dickens. At uni I had a reputation for being slightly odd as the only girl who actually read them for fun. I adore Oliver, truly, and maybe, if I think really hard, I can trace my love affair with young adult protagonists back to him. Everyone knows this story, even people who’ve never picked up a book, even people who’ve never seen one of the hundreds of adaptations, and this is a testament to the endurance of the tale and the vividness of the creation.

The Princess Bride by William Goldman

The trouble with this choice is that, although I love the book and would happily read it forever, I adore the film and have watched it practically every six months since I can remember. Since the film is only a fraction of the complexity of the book, I forget things when I’m telling people about the book. The main difference, for those who don’t know, is that while the film is a story within a story, the book is a story within a story within a story. The addition of a dysfunctional narrator undergoing some kind of mid-life crisis whilst searching for an elusive copy of his favourite book adds another, sharper, more contemporary layer. But, for all that, you still have to love Inigo, the vengeance obsessed swordsman, the best.

Island by Jane Rogers

This book, aside from being fantastic, has special meaning for me. I make no secret of my obsession with BBC’s Merlin, and the recent film adaptation of this book starred one Colin Morgan, who plays Merlin in the TV show. I was lucky enough to attend the premiere in Glasgow and to meet Colin and the film’s producers. Sad as I am, I took my well-loved copy of Island along. Now it’s even more precious, containing the autographs of Colin and the film’s producer/director/screenwriter. I take it to bed every night and hug it as I sleep. The book is a dark tale of one young woman’s unravelling mind. She travels to a remote Scottish island to track down the mother who abandoned her to a life in care, with the intentions of killing her in order to exact revenge. What she finds on the island is not only her mother, but a strange half-brother who shows her a new way of viewing the world. While the ending is far from happy, its uplifting message, that salvation is possible for anyone, stays with you weeks after you’ve closed the book.

The Dark is Rising by Susan Cooper

I love this series, except for the first book, which drives me insane! Luckily, I began reading the Dark is Rising first (the book for which the series is named) and, in my opinion, this is the best one. It can be read as a standalone with no problem. It’s full of ancient British mythology and magic, and a great protagonist in Will Stanton. I just wish someone had done a Harry Potter with it, instead of that awful film version that we ended up with; it could have been the start of a franchise to rival the best of them.

I recently started reading a book that had me crying during the first few pages. Which got me thinking about other books that have done the same thing. And then I thought I’d share them with you. So… my choices are, in no particular order, and there will be others that pop into my head as soon as I switch off the laptop:

The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly

I LOVE this book. I have read it three times and am preparing to use it for my PhD studies. Set in England against the backdrop of World War II, it follows the progress of teenager David, who has just lost his mother to cancer. Shortly afterwards his father meets another woman and a relationship blossoms, one that David finds hard to accept. What follows seemingly sets up as a tale of familial conflict, but soon takes the reader by complete surprise. Fleeing an argument, David finds himself trapped behind a wall as a plane crashes in his garden and the only escape is a portal to a world of every fairy tale he has ever been told by his mother.

Blub factor: Tears begin falling on page one, people.

The Road by Cormack McCarthy

On the face of it, nothing really happens. But The Road, in my humble opinion, is one of the most finely crafted books I have ever read. A man and a boy (we never find out their names) travel across America in search of some relief from their horrific life in the wake of an apparent apocalypse. The most important consideration is food and shelter from the incessant cold, but close to that is perpetual fear from the gangs that roam the country capturing and eating defenceless people. Terror for the reader comes from the notion that this man and his boy will be taken, and tears are shed for the internal dialogue of the man as he vows to protect his son, even if it means killing him with his own hands rather than let him be taken by one of these evil gangs.

Blub factor: Page nine.

The Fault in Our Stars by John Green

Teenagers with cancer. Doesn’t take a genius to work out where this is going. What Green does that is so poignant is that he gives them spirit and a need to wring every last bit from their short lives in the knowledge of their mortality. Everything they do is like they’re doing it for the last time. And when the time comes for at least one, as you know it will, it’s all the more tragic.

Blub factor: Page twelve

Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens

Sorry, but I have to put Charlie Boy in here. I adore this novel and have done since I was a kid. I can’t even remember how many times I’ve read it. And as everyone (unless you’ve been living on Venus) knows the story, I’ll spare you the synopsis. But God love Charlie, he was a master at tear-wringing. When Oliver’s mother dies right at the start, I’m already in bits, perhaps because I know what’s coming.

Blub factor: Depending what edition you have, page three.

Fugitive Pieces by Anne Michaels

This was a book I read for a university module and something I probably wouldn’t have picked up otherwise. Sometimes, the books that you don’t choose to read are the ones that turn out to be the most rewarding. It follows Jakob, a rescued survivor of the Holocaust who is taken to a Greek island away from the fighting to grow up. But as an adult he still struggles to come to terms with what he saw and went through as a boy and is haunted by the ghosts of the family he lost. Michaels has an assured and poetic style that is both melancholy and a delight to read.